That person was Richard Haddon, whose turn was yet to come.
An hour passed and Dick had received no hint of the trouble in store.
Then Joel Ham, prowling along the desks, inspecting a task, stopped before the boy and stood eyeing him with the curiosity with which an entomologist might regard a rare grub, clawing his thin whiskers the while.

The interest he felt was apparently of the most friendly description.
'Ah, Ginger,' he said, 'I had almost forgotten that I am still your debtor.

This way, Ginger, please.' He stood Dick on his high stool, carefully tied the boy's ankles with a strap, and gave him a large slate, on which his faults were emblazoned in chalk, to hold up for the inspection of the classes; and so he left him for the remainder of the afternoon, every now and again pausing in his vicinity to deliver some incomprehensible sentiment or a sarcastic homily.

This performance affected all the scholars, but it excited Gable so much that the little old man could do nothing but sit and stare at Dick with round eyes and open mouth, and mutter 'Oh, crickie!' in a frightened way.

The little dark-eyed girl in the Third Class bore the ordeal badly, too, and every speech of the master's started a large tear rolling down her dimpled brown cheek.
When the rest of the youngsters marched out, Dick Haddon remained on his high perch.